


Talking In Your Sleep

by Devonwood



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, M/M, Pegging, Somnophilia, Threesome, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-05
Updated: 2011-09-05
Packaged: 2020-02-09 12:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devonwood/pseuds/Devonwood
Summary: Santana has done many things in her life since becoming sexually active oh so many years ago, butthisis certainly going to be a new experience. She shifts her weight from one heeled foot to the other at the end of Blaine and Kurt’s bed, looking down at the sleeping man-child clutching the covers in his fists. Blaine snuffles in his sleep, and Kurt bites back a groan.Wanky.





	Talking In Your Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2011.

“You’re sure he’ll like this, Hummel?” 

Santana has done many things in her life since becoming sexually active oh so many years ago, but _this_ is certainly going to be a new experience. She shifts her weight from one heeled foot to the other at the end of Blaine and Kurt’s bed, looking down at the sleeping man-child clutching the covers in his fists. 

Blaine is face down on the bed, naked except for a pair of Superman boxer briefs snug around his hips, and God he must be a good fuck because there is no way Hummel would put up with both bad sex and a bad fashion sense. Blaine snores once, lightly, and burrows his head further down into the pillows. 

“Trust me,” Kurt says, giving Blaine’s body a once-over before turning back to Santana, “We’ll both absolutely love it.”

“Great,” she says, “Then I don’t have to buy _either_ of you a birthday present.” 

“You weren’t going to anyway,” Kurt says as he sits in the wingback chair to the left of the bed, but Santana doesn’t dignify that with a response. 

Instead, she drops her bag on the floor and crawls onto the bed, straddling the backs of Blaine’s thighs. He barely whuffles in his sleep at the added pressure, so Santana grabs his extremely adult underwear by the waistband and slowly eases it down over his bottom, pressing her knees hard against the mattress on either side of his waist to create a space to slide them down. She has to maneuver around to pull them all the way off his legs, but Blaine doesn’t so much as snore as his body is jostled around on the bed. 

She flings the underwear in Kurt’s general direction, and smirks when they land on his head. “Are you sure he’s not in a coma?” Santana asks as Kurt splutters and pulls the underwear from his face. 

“He sleeps like a rock, spread eagle in the middle of the bed,” Kurt says, tossing the underwear to the floor with a grimace. “I thought he would be a cuddler, but most nights he almost rolls me right off the side of the mattress.” 

“Wanky,” Santana says, and she doesn’t have to see it to know that Kurt rolls his eyes. She slides back up the length of Blaine’s body to sit against his thighs again. “Would it scare if you I took off my shirt, Hummel? I know you don’t like boobs.” 

Kurt raises an eyebrow but shakes his head. “Do whatever you’d like,” he says with a shrug. “I promise you I won’t be staring at your chest.” 

Smirking, Santana whips off her shirt and throws it on top of her bag, not letting it touch the floor. Kurt and Blaine have probably had sex on every horizontal surface in this tiny apartment, and Santana doesn’t want to catch anything from the carpet. She leaves her bra on, though; the cheetah print looks great against her skin, she thinks, and it matches the rest of her lingerie perfectly. 

Blaine still slumbers on, even as Santana runs her fingernails lightly down the length of his back, scratching gently until she sinks her claws into the flesh of Blaine’s ass. It’s a damn good ass. Blaine should be proud of that thing. 

“I’m assuming you two have lube,” she says, sliding back until she hovers above Blaine’s calves. The position is slightly uncomfortable, but the burn in her thighs feels wonderful. 

Kurt shoots her a glare over his shoulder as he rummages around in the nightstand drawer “Of course. What do you think we do, spit on our hands and hope for the best?” 

“I don’t know,” she says with a shrug. “Maybe you two like to go full-on Brokeback. I don’t judge.” 

Kurt tosses her a white bottle with a green snap lid, and she catches it in one hand. The label says ‘ _[Boy Butter Fresca](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pIVCbjLtcws/TUQsllgf8QI/AAAAAAAABVE/M-JGJfE9aWk/s400/frescaPoster.jpg)_ ’ and Santana smirks as she pops off the cap.  

“Which one of you likes the extra tingle when you mingle?” 

“Me, actually,” Kurt replies, and she can practically _hear_ the blush in his voice. “Besides, the menthol masks the distinct taste of Crisco.” 

Santana squirts a generous amount of lube on her fingers, looking over her shoulder at Kurt in the chair. “Once again, _wanky_.” She uses her dry hand to spread open Blaine’s cheeks, letting go and watching the way they jiggle into place. God, his ass is _fine_. She’d almost consider renouncing her lesbianism for it. 

She slides just the tip of one finger in, watching for Blaine’s reaction. He sharply inhales in his sleep, but doesn’t make any other movement. Not even a whimper. Santana frowns at the lack of reaction. It’s not really doing anything for her, but Kurt is apparently totally getting into it, if the sounds of his zipper lowering are any indication. He’s in a pair of his fancy painted-on pants which means it will take _forever_ to get them off, so she returns her full attention to Blaine and his gorgeous ass. 

Using her dry hand to hold him open, Santana pushes one finger entirely in to the second knuckle. Blaine whines softly in his sleep and ruts his hips once, twice, into the mattress, but otherwise doesn’t wake up. Santana gives a low whistle as she twists her finger with little resistance. 

“Either you worked him open before I got here, or you two fuck like rabbits.” 

“I’d rather not discuss our personal life,” Kurt says with a huff that is part annoyance, part arousal. 

Santana raises her eyebrows as she turns to look at him. “It’s a bit late for that, Mr. Voyeur. And those jeans look really uncomfortable. You can take them off, you know,” she adds, licking her lips. 

“You know,” Kurt says almost conversationally, “for a lesbian, you’re _wildly_ comfortable with the idea of dick.” 

“I can appreciate a work of art, Hummel,” she replies. “Besides, word on the street is that you’re hung like a horse.” 

Kurt gasps. “Who said that?” 

“No one had to say _anything_ ,” Santana replies. “Your pants are so tight, a person a mile away could tell whether or not you’re circumcised.” 

Kurt flushes, but reaches his hand into his pants anyway at about the same time Santana slips her finger out of Blaine only to press it right back in. She can’t pay attention to Kurt any more because Blaine’s breath starts coming in pants-- soft, quick breaths that make his back rise sharply with each inhale. 

He looks really good like this, Santana thinks, all splayed out with rippling muscles. It doesn’t take long before he’s loose enough that Santana can add a second finger, meeting only a little tightness along the way. 

Kurt inhales sharply and bites off the end of a moan, which is ridiculously hot and spurs Santana to move a little harder, a little faster. This is mostly about Blaine, but Kurt is definitely getting something out of it, too. And Santana is as well. The gasps and pants from the bed are delicious, and Santana feels a heady rush of power as she twists her fingers inside Blaine and he arches hard, snapping his hips forward into the bed with a guttural moan. 

“That’s his prostate,” Kurt says, whining a bit on the end of the word. 

Santana looks over to see if he’s finally stopped being a prude. His hand is wrapped around his dick, stroking slowly with a bit of a twist, and yeah-- totally a stallion. Blaine is a lucky, lucky boy. 

“No shit, Hummel. You act like this is the first time I’ve fucked a guy in the ass.” 

Ignoring Kurt’s stunned silence, Santana presses a third finger into Blaine. Kurt and Blaine both moan at the same time, in a weird sort of sexual harmony, and it’s so cute she kind of wants to gag. She can feel Blaine begin to wake up, his hips wriggling and his muscles shifting as he rests in that sweet stage between dreaming and consciousness.

Blaine starts to whine and whimper, making desperate noises that pool straight in the pit of her stomach. Santana squeezes her legs together around Blaine’s calves and reacquaints herself with the hardness between her legs, clenching around it. She moans, bucking her hips forward, holding her hands around Blaine’s waist to steady her body. It’s time. 

“You’re still sure about this?” Santana asks. 

“Of course I’m sure,” Kurt grits out, his head thrown back against the wall as he continues stroking his dick. “Get on with it.” 

Santana climbs off the bed and stands, enjoying how Blaine presses backwards in his sleep looking for the missing feeling between his thighs. She pulls her jeans down and kicks them off, toeing out of the heels at the same time. 

The [harness](http://www.amazon.com/Sportsheets-Vibrating-Corsette-Harness-Black/dp/B0016NCDLY/ref=pd_sim_hpc_7) around her waist needs a bit of readjustment so the straps fasten comfortably around her hips and thighs, but everything feels perfect when she attaches the black dildo from her backpack. Santana reaches inside the harness, flicking the switch at the base of the micro-bullet attached to the material and groaning as it buzzes into life against her clit. 

She crawls back onto the bed and squirts more lube into her palms, getting them both wet as she runs her hands over and around the dildo. She gives Kurt a good show; she’s rather good at handjobs, and rarely ever gets to show off that skill any more. Kurt would probably be more impressed if he wasn’t busy staring at Blaine’s face as he snuggles into the pillow. 

“Happy birthday, Blainey-boy,” Santana says in a sing-song manner, glancing once more at Kurt before she lines the dildo up with Blaine’s ass and slides the head in. 

“Kurt, whu?” Blaine asks brokenly from the pillow, voice still thick with sleep, and Kurt groans hard at the sound of it. 

Santana’s not going to lie, it’s totally doing things for her, too. She slides the rest of the way in with one quick push, and Blaine’s back arches as his eyes flutter open. He whips his head around, confused. 

“Kurt, ah! Feels g’d,” he mumbles, trying to life his shoulders from the bed and failing. 

“Not Kurt,” Santana says with a smirk, and yep-- now Blainers is fully awake. He yelps, trying to twist his body, but Kurt gets off the chair and holds his shoulders down. 

“Santana?” Blaine asks, the end of her name turning into a pretty moan as she slides out and pushes in again.

“Santana,” Kurt confirms, leaning down to kiss Blaine. Blaine’s movements are still sloppy with the drowsiness of sleep, but Kurt seems to lap that up as his hips cant into the side of the bed. 

Santana grinds her hips as she settles deep, the bullet inside sending vibrations straight to her clit. She clenches her thighs to keep it in that position as she begins even strokes, just enough to tease but without the twist of her hips to truly please.

Blaine scrabbles at the bed sheets with his fingernails, clawing at the mattress, and Kurt drinks the needy moans straight from his mouth. Santana hears Blaine gasp that he wants to suck Kurt off, and damn Hummel moves fast because she can hear Blaine gagging on his dick by the next thrust of her hips. She’d watch because it sounds fucking hot, but the bullet presses at a new, delicious angle, and her eyes roll back in her head as the speed of her hips picks up.

She grinds her hips again on the next thrust, adjusting the angle, and that must do the trick because Blaine pops off Kurt’s dick with a lewd noise and groans hard as he presses himself backwards onto the dildo. 

“Close, so close- ah,” he mumbles, the end muffled as Kurt slides his dick back inside Blaine’s mouth. 

Santana looks on, impressed, as Kurt tangles his hands in Blaine’s hair and holds him still while he fucks Blaine’s face. Blaine whines and wriggles his whole body under the attention, and Blaine’s helplessness is really doing it for her as Santana slides all the way back out before slamming her hips forward. Blaine seems to be getting off on sucking Kurt’s dick as much as he is on her fucking his ass, but Santana isn’t about to let Kurt win this one.

Santana climbs off Blaine entirely, grinning at his desperate whine as she forces him up to his knees, pressing his back down so his chest remains flat against the bed. He sags a little, muscles still tired from sleep, and his knees quake as Santana slides back in without warning. 

Blaine groans thick around Kurt’s cock with the angle change, and the vibrations must feel heavenly because Kurt groans, too. Everything becomes loud and heavy for a moment with nothing but the sounds of moans and skin slapping against skin punctuating the air. 

Blaine is the first to come, which isn’t surprising since he’s strung tight between Kurt and Santana. It only takes one long push from Kurt until Blaine’s choking on his dick, and one sharp thrust from Santana before he cries out loudly and, without being touched, spills on the sheets underneath him. He whines as his cock pulses, and Santana wishes she could feel the way his ass clenches hard around the dildo because it looks amazing. 

Santana follows shortly after, the vibrating bullet angling just right inside her with one more thrust. She grips Blaine’s hips hard as she comes, thrusting forward one last time as she rides out the waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She hasn’t come that hard in a long time, especially not from having sex with a guy. It’s a heady, slightly confusing feeling. 

Kurt is the last one, thrusting hard and fast as his fingers twist tighter in Blaine’s curls. Blaine’s mouth lolls wide open post-orgasm, and he lets Kurt just use his face as his eyes flutter shut. Kurt comes with a moan, and damn-- Blaine must be a blowjob _pro,_ because he swallows it all down easily without letting a single drop spill over his lips. Not even Santana is that good. She’s mildly impressed. 

As Kurt and Blaine kiss each other softly, tenderly, Santana slides out of Blaine’s ass. She reaches down and turns the bullet off just when the oversensitivity starts to become too much and pops the dildo from the harness, placing it inside a plastic bag before throwing it into her bag. She manages to slide the harness off and pull on a fresh pair of underwear all while Kurt and Blaine are still distracted and won’t run away at the sight of a vagina. She slinks back into her pants and finds her shirt as they nuzzle each other, and the sight is so cute she wants to puke. 

“So uh, thank you for that, Santana,” Blaine says with an awkward grin as he finally looks away from Kurt, and Kurt blushes as he avoids eye contact.

“Look, we had sex. It doesn’t have to be weird. I’m not like, in love with you or anything” Santana says, zipping up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. Blaine looks relieved as she slips her heels back on, and Santana rolls her eyes. “I’ll see myself out,” she adds, but they’ve started kissing again

As she walks out of their bedroom and into the kitchen, she hears them giggling at each other and whispering what are probably adorably sappy terms of endearment. It makes her want to punch both of them in the teeth for being so happy. At least Blaine was a good fuck, she rationalizes, but she’d _love_ to have Kurt squealing beneath her. She grins to herself and licks her lips, picturing Blaine grabbing her boobs as she fucks into Kurt. She’d probably have to get them both a little drunk first, but that shouldn’t be too hard.

On the way out she grabs an entire box of granola bars from the pantry and shoves them in her bag, along with their copy of the TV Guide. She’ll plan next time on the train ride back to her apartment. 


End file.
